


This, Their Game

by windandthestars



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Authority Figures, Community: kink_bingo, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-21
Updated: 2012-09-21
Packaged: 2017-11-14 17:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windandthestars/pseuds/windandthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a curiosity to him, her stubborn railing against society turned to this, its total opposite, at the end of a particularly trying week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This, Their Game

**Author's Note:**

> Asexual James and Helen play a game, and Helen beds her lady's maid.
> 
> for kink_bingo: authority figures.

It's a curiosity to him, her stubborn railing against society turned to this, its total opposite, at the end of a particularly trying week. Helen Magnus who answered to no one, answered to him in these fleeting moments and that fascinated him. He might not understand the benefits she saught, but he understands the mechanics well enough to play his part and not let on just how much he enjoys himself.

They wouldn't play long at this game tonight. Already, Helen was impatient- not in emotion, they had already subsided from their feverish anguish, but in a way that left her eyes dark even as she struggled with her lingering annoyance. Soon she would retire to her rooms and James would find himself short a maid, or two given Helen's previously ornery mood, for several hours if not for the remainder of the night.

"I said cream no sugar." He intones slowly, letting out a even breath to keep the smile from his face.

He watches as she fights to keep her irritation from showing, the corner of her mouth twitching in distaste as a crease forms faintly between her eyebrows. Set in his habits, this wasn't how he usually took his tea. He had intentionally altered his request to test the extent to which her attentions had faltered.

Quite far it would seem as she hesitated momentarily before collecting the cup and saucer from the table beside him with a formal, if curt, apology. He was after all a guest in her sitting room, the master of the house and, as such a charade required, the sole judge of her proper character.

"Scone?" She offers, more of an apology than her previous attempt and he pauses for a moment to consider.

"The state of the Japanese import market is quite unfortunate." He says plainly.

Her fingers twitch against her skirt but she makes no reply as she pours him another cup. He had expected her to comment, at the very least utter his name in warning, but she holds steady, although the effort it costs her is obvious: her spine held rigid, her brow now furrowed in its entirety. That very morning she had argued with him over breakfast. The good for which he was such a strong proponent was relative in her eyes; his inability to concede to this had caused quite a ruckus over the toast.

She looks more cross now as she hands him his tea, his enjoyment overrides hers how ever temporarily, and he finds a fitting sort of irony in that.

"I have an engagement at the hour. If it suits you I would like to take my leave now."

"Such a late hour for a lady." He chastises hiding a smirk behind the rim of his china cup as she smiles at him demurely. "Not an errand I would hope."

"It's nothing of the sort, I assure you."

"Perhaps a lover." He's teasing, but he keeps most of the lightness from his voice; he must play within the confines of the game. Helen knew full well he was aware of exactly what it was she was doing with the young girls and the occasional lad in their employ. He takes no exception to it- and precluding this, their game- he takes no interest in it either.

She turns away, to hide a blush or a scowl, he can't be sure, but her voice when she speaks betrays neither. "If you must know I have a needlepoint to finish before my tea with Margret. I have been rather neglectful of it I'm afraid."

Neglectful was an understatement. If he knew Helen at all, she would once again find a way to weasel out of joining their neighbor for tea, the sole intent of the act to avoid betraying her lack of skill. 

"If you must." She turns toward him hopefully expectant and he gestures toward the door with a nod. "Go get on with it, and do try and remember that the board at the end of your bed creaks rather dreadfully when stepped upon."


End file.
